


[soccer match]

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: Football | Soccer, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-03 19:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17884076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: According to Season 1, Delorme plays soccer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk, the thought of cardinal and the others at one of delorme's matches popped into my head, and this is the result. i felt like something lighthearted.
> 
> takes place somewhere before or at the beginning of s2 (the lawyer guy delorme goes out with in s2e01 is mentioned in this)

Her lungs are starting to burn as Lise picks up her pace, legs working furiously as she tries to outrun the other woman sticking to her side.

She suddenly changes direction, managing to lose her shadow as the other woman in her light blue jersey lets out a surprised squeak, the wet grass causing her to lose her balance as her feet go out from under her.

“Delorme!”

She looks over in time to see Hannah kick the ball and sprints towards it, managing to make it there for another one of their opponents does. Looking up, she has a clear shot of the goal, but before she can do anything about it, she feels something crash into her legs and falls over with an undignified yell, the wind getting knocked out of her as her body hits the grass to the sound of the referee’s sharp whistle.

“Tu vas bien?”

Lise lets out a low groan as Cecile bends over her. Slowly, she nods, and sits up. Touches her hand to her side, gingerly pressing down on her ribs. Her left side is smarting, but nothing seems broken.

“Sorry,” her opponent apologizes, offering her a hand up. Lise ignores her, accepting Cecile’s instead and allowing her teammate to pull her to her feet. She stretches, shaking out her arms and legs, eyes idly scanning the people on the side of the field as her opponent receives a yellow card for that stunt. Her ankles feel fine, which seems pretty lucky, Lise thinks as she gives an experimental jump with both feet. Her forest green jersey is sticking to her skin and Lise pulls the hem up to wipe her face on it briefly.

As she allows it to fall back down, her eyes meet that of none other than John Cardinal, and she feels her jaw drop in surprise at the sight of him standing at the side of the football feet, hands in the pockets of his jacket as he watches the game.

“Ey, t’es okay?” Cecile asks, thumping her on the back as Lise flushes furiously.

“Ouais,” she nods, throat working as she swallows thickly. She shakes her head, blinking, and returns her attention to the game.

* * *

“Not bad,” Cardinal remarks when she makes her way over almost thirty minutes later, her jersey completely soaked by her sweat.

Lise shakes her head, accepting a bottle of water he holds out to her. She takes it and opens it, rinsing her mouth and spitting it out, before she takes a few sips.

“What are you doing here?” she asks him, leaning forward as she rests her hands on her thighs. The last fifteen minutes of this game were absolute hell. For some reason, their opponents had suddenly caught a second wind, and she’d been hard pressed to keep up with them.

“Watching the game,” he answers, lips tugging into a small grin, and she rolls her eyes as him as she straightens, pressing her hand into her side as her chest moves with her heaving breaths.

“How did you even know…” Lise trails off, trying to remember if she mentioned anything about today’s game to him. She’s pretty sure she hasn’t. She doesn’t even mark them in her work calendar, the matches that is. Besides highlighting the date in green, at least. She’s pretty sure that he hasn’t figured that one out yet.

The thing is, she doesn’t want to make this into a, a thing. Doesn’t want half the precinct show up to the games and watch as her team gets their asses handed to them. Though admittedly, today was actually pretty decent. They managed to score two goals and actually beat the away team 2-1. But that’s, that’s a small miracle. It’s only the start of the season, and most of their team is still pretty out of shape. Besides her, Amanda and Cecile, they don’t really have an incentive to keep up with their exercises during the off season. She’s a cop and runs regularly, Amanda does track and field as a hobby, and Cecile used to be in the army and keeps up with that workout.

“You told your date that you had work today,” he shrugs. “That I’d asked you to go over the case together.”

“When did I-” she starts, before cutting herself off with a groan. Of course. Sean had called her the other day, asking her if she wanted to go out with him today. She’d stepped into the board room to talk, but hadn’t closed the door behind herself. When she’d finished and turned around, Cardinal had just been raising his hand to knock on the door jamb to catch her attention. She’d thought he’d just shown up, that he’d only caught her signing off, but apparently, he’d stood there for longer than she’d realized. Long enough to catch her lying to her current… whatever Sean is.

Delorme takes a deep breath, looking away.

“You didn’t have to come,” she says, kicking her foot on the gravel.

“I know,” Cardinal replies and she looks up to see him shrug. “I wanted to,” he adds, his voice softer. “I wanted to come. Cheer you on.”

She swallows thickly at the sudden lump in her throat. Cardinal shifts, looking over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his head towards the parking lot. “I’ll drive you home. Grab a bite on the way. Anything you’d like.”

“Anything?” she asks, lifting her eyebrows. He pauses, eyes widening when he realized what he said.

“Now don’t go abusing my generosity,” he warns, holding up his index finger in warning, but Delorme’s lips have already tugged into a big grin.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she tells him. “I’ll just, grab my stuff,” she adds, motioning towards the team bench, where her gym bag is sitting, slowly making her way over.

When she returns, with her bag thrown over her shoulder and a towel in her hands as she dabs at the sweat on her face, Cardinal has pulled up his car. She tosses her bag into the back before climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door.

“Where to, Detective?” he asks as she buckles the seatbelt.

She’s tempted to tell him to go to the gas station diner he hates so much. He did say anything she wanted, and Lise happens to actually like their poutine. But he came to her game, because he wanted to. He stood there, for almost two hours, and cheered her on. The least she can do, is pick a place he will at least kind of enjoy.

“How about pizza?” she suggests, tilting her head.

“Sounds good,” John nods, starting the car again as Lise reclines back in her seat, smiling softly to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that s2 puts delorme's physical activity of choice as boxing. it's an interesting contrast, to have her go from a team sport while she was in financial, to a solitary one as she gets comfortable in cis. if i had enough brain power, i would write an entire essay on that.
> 
> headcanon: she had to quit the team bc of time constraints, and has found a group of women of all ages, who will get together every once in a while to kick a ball around when time allows them to. no set schedule and it's more about fun than about goals and points or anything like that
> 
> long story short: i have a lot of feelings about delorme and her sport of choice, okay?!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain kept coming back to this idea

It shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t bother her so much. It’s not like she asked him to come in the first place.

But the thing is, he did. Ever since that very first match Cardinal showed up to, he’s been to every single one of them that Delorme took part in. Always there, standing at the sideline, sometimes sitting in the small stands when they exist. She’s come to look forward to seeing him there.

Lise leans forward, resting her hands on her thighs as she draws heaving breaths. She’s itching to look over her shoulder again, to his usual spot, but she already knows what she’ll find there if she does. It hasn’t been more than three minutes since she last checked.

It was stupid of her to think that he might be able to make it. She knows that. Things in Toronto rarely go as planned, and between the metropolis and Algonquin Bay is a four hour drive. If he’s made it back by now, Cardinal is probably at home, resting. The last thing he needs to be doing, after a day of working and then driving all the way back home, is to spend the evening standing in the heat, watching twenty-two women fight over a damn ball.

But it still stings. The knowledge that he didn’t come, it still smarts.

Delorme lets out a deep sigh and straightens at the sound of the referee’s whistle. Takes a few jogging steps towards their side of the field, hoping to confuse her shadow. It seems to work, the woman on the other team frowns, torn, for a moment, between holding her position and following Delorme. When she does move and decides to go after her, Lise gives an internal cheer. Drawing her away from the others and the action had been her intention. Her shadow, number 28, is a decent player, but doesn’t have as much speed. When it comes down to it, Delorme should be able to outrun her. Which is exactly what she’s hoping to do.

It’s only been fifteen minutes, since the game started, yet her forest green jersey is already clinging to her back while droplets of sweat run down the detective’s face. At least it’s not as hot as it has been the rest of the week. Thank God for small mercies, Lise thinks.

As Amanda throws the ball towards Grace, Delorme changes direction abruptly, and takes off towards the opponents’ goal. She hears her shadow curse loudly, the detective’s lips tugging into a satisfied grin as Grace passes the ball to Cecile, everyone yelling out names and instructions.

Cecile passes the ball to Hannah briefly, before she gets it back, nearly losing possession when the woman that’s covering Grace breaks free and makes a mad dash for her.

Delorme calls her name and waves briefly as the blonde looks around, hoping for an opening. The ball goes flying, gaining height, but it bounces of one of their opponent’s sides, and Lise has to sprint to make it.

She does, barely, and with no time or space to think about her next move, she decides to just go for it, and gives the ball a heavy kick, aiming for the goal-

“Yes!”

The cheers from the sidelines, along with the groans of their opponents on the field, tell her she actually made it. Lise stands there, dumbfounded, when Cecile nearly crashes into her, hugging her with a joyful laugh.

“Je vais t’embrasser, Delorme!” the other French-Canadian laughs as she wraps her arms around her. Lise shakes her head in amusement as she hugs her back.

“Non, tu ne feras pas,” she chuckles, feeling Hannah thump her back as Amanda wraps an arm around her neck, whooping loudly.

As she shakes Cecile off her back, her eyes drift over to the sideline again, searching for a tall, familiar figure before she can stop herself. Lise feels her smile crumble, her mood souring again.

And then her eyes land on a set of broad shoulders and Lise’s heart skips a beat before it starts hammering in her chest.

Cardinal grins at her, raising an arm briefly in greeting, and Delorme finds herself smiling widely in response, inclining her head as happiness floods her.

He came. He actually came. After two days in Toronto, chasing down experts, and a four hour drive back to Algonquin Bay, Cardinal didn’t go home and crashed. No, he instead came to see her, came to watch her game.

* * *

“You didn’t have to come.”

Her fingers flex around the wheel before she sets the blinker, ready to take a right at the intersection. In the passenger seat, Cardinal shifts and rubs his hand over his face.

“I wanted to,” he says.

She barely manages to keep from rolling her eyes. Her hair is still sticking to the back of her neck, and she’s itching for a shower.

“And now I am the one driving your car. Driving you home,” she points out to him. Casts a quick glance over at Cardinal, who is really fading fast. Right now, he seems to have trouble keeping his eyes open, and Lise feels a wave of guilt wash over her at the sight.

“I’m serious, John,” she tells him. “Next time, don’t come. Stay home. Before you end up wrecking your car because you fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Okay,” her partner agrees as he crosses his arms. At the next traffic light, she looks over again, and his head is slumped against the window, eyes closed. Her heart gives a lurch at the sight of him like this.

He could be in bed, right now, fast asleep. Instead, he’s in his car, with Delorme driving, because he had thought he needed to be at her game.

Lise reaches up, rubbing a hand over her forehead as she slumps back in the driver’s seat. The light turns green and she straightens, foot pushing down on the gas as the traffic starts moving again.

“Thanks for coming,” she murmurs softly, her heart hammering in her throat.

“’re welcome,” John mumbles, cracking open an eye briefly before he closes it again, and Delorme can feel herself blushing with the knowledge that he heard her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it's safe to say that i've kind of, fallen in love with this. oooops.

Lise shifts, pulling the jersey over her head before she plops down onto one of the benches, grabbing her shin guards to put those on.

Next to her, Cecile leans back, bracing her weight on her hands behind herself as she watches Lise.

“What?” she asks finally as she pulls the socks over the guards, arching a brow at the other woman. Her teammate tilts her head, searching her face.

“Who’s tall, dark and handsome?” the Franco woman asks, surprising Lise with both the question, as well as her choice of language. Besides Cecile and her, there are two other French-Canadians on their team, and they oftentimes end up speaking French with each other. Especially during matches, when things get a little heated and the time and brain power it takes to translate can mean the difference between a point scored or lost.

“Who?” she frowns, getting up to start stretching. Cecile follows her example, pursing her lips as she lifts her foot off the grass and catches it in her hand, pulling her leg back. She jerks her head over to the other side of the field, the small stand for the audience.

“Le mec qui a été à tous nos matchs,” the other blonde replies with a slight roll of her eyes.

Delorme follows her gaze, cheeks flushing a little as she catches sight of Cardinal in the stands, sticking out among the small number of guests.

Most of their audience is made up by the kids of the women playing. Some husbands, or romantic partners, as well. Cardinal usually stays a bit apart from them. Doesn’t really make much conversation, which is very much in line with his personality.

Lise gives a small shake of her head, jumping in place a few times.

“Il est mon partenaire,” she answers. “We work together,” she adds, knowing that the rest of their team is listening in. “He’s my partner. Nothing more.”

“Dans ce cas…” Cecile mumbles, tilting her head with sudden interest. “Il est célibataire?”

It surprises her, the way Delorme feels her hackles rise immediately at the question.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, aiming for nonchalant. She misses the mark, though, and Cecile rolls her eyes at her.

“Ah, tu es intéressée,” she grins, prompting Lise to shake her head.

“No, I’m not interested in him,” she denies. Hesitates, then, because this isn’t her story, and it feels wrong to be the one to tell it.

“He lost his wife a couple of months ago,” she adds. “Technically, he may be single, but I don’t think John is looking for anything, right now,” she shakes her head.

Next to her, Cecile has lost her teasing air and sobered considerably.

“Ah, tabarnak,” she mumbles under her breath, and Lise feels herself wholeheartedly agreeing with her teammate there.

“I’m sorry,” Cecile apologizes. “I didn’t mean…” the other woman trails off with a frown.

“It’s fine,” Lise waves her off, deciding to give her a break. She knows she struggles, with expressing herself precisely in English, plus this isn’t anything Cecile could have known. She couldn’t possibly have had any idea about Catherine and her death and the toll it took, on Cardinal.

The other woman reaches out, giving Delorme’s shoulder a soft squeeze, and Lise reaches up to cover her hand with her own, squeezing back with a small smile.

* * *

This match sucks.

Delorme shakes her head, reaching up to brush a few tendrils of hair from her face that have managed to escape her braid and are now clinging to her sweaty skin.

She presses her hands on the back of her hips, anger boiling up inside of her. This is the third time the referee ignored an obvious foul against their team, but this time, they went ahead and awarded a free-kick to their opponents, and Delorme is just about ready to throw some hands or strangle them.

She watches as the player takes her position, jumping in place briefly before shaking out her legs.

Something tugs on her shirt and Delorme turns her head, glaring at her opponent. The woman that has been shielding her this game is incredibly annoying and has no concept of personal space. She keeps bumping into Lise, and while that is kind of part of the job, she detective can’t help but grow increasingly annoyed and angry. This isn’t professional soccer, they are all doing this as a hobby, nothing more. So if her shadow could just relax a little, she’d appreciate it.

The sound of the whistle makes her jerk her head around again, just in time to see the opponent’s foot connect with the ball and send it flying through the air, heading for Delorme and her shadow.

She doesn’t think, only reacts, her body moving before Delorme can even think her actions through. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have gone for the ball. Wouldn’t have jumped to reach it.

As it is, she’s already in the air, so Lise decides to make the best of it, body turning to avoid her shadow, since the other woman also went up. Lise feels her back arch and sees the ball come closer and closer and then there’s blinding pain exploding behind her eyelids and everything goes dark as her body slackens, heading straight for the ground again.

* * *

A pained hiss escapes her as Cardinal takes hold of her chin and tilts her head back, to inspect the wound near her hairline.

Lise reaches up and swats his hand away, grateful when he actually does let go.

“Don’t,” she tells him, starting to shake her head, before she stops, the room spinning. She reaches out to steady herself on something, the gurney or something, but instead finds his arm. His skin is warm under her hand, and surprisingly soft, and Delorme finds herself flushing yet again.

“You okay?” Cardinal asks, his voice a little distant.

Delorme draws a steadying breath, clenching her eyes shut in an attempt to keep whatever is left in her stomach down. Which, at this point, probably is very little, given that she already threw up twice, after her nasty collision with the other player.

At least all she got was a small cut pretty close to her hairline. She wouldn’t have thought it, but Delorme is actually pretty happy, about that outcome. Given that she ended up breaking her opponent’s nose. She’s fairly certain that her pain is negligible, compared to that of the other woman.

“I’ll live,” she jokes, opening her eyes again. Only to find John searching her face, concern shining in his eyes.

“You’re not staying alone at your place, tonight,” he informs her, his voice leaving no room for argument. And Delorme isn’t sure she would have argued with him, not with how, fuzzy, she feels, around the edges.

She’s had concussions before, she knows the symptoms, and she knows how dangerous they can be. She distantly remembers an episode at Aylmer, when she lost a battle with a flight of stairs during a parcours running exercise. Funnily enough, she does remember the stairs coming up to meet her, and thinking ‘oh fuck’, before everything went dark, but the next couple of days after were rather hazy, like some, distant fever dream.

“I’m guessing we lost,” she sighs, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yes,” Cardinal confirms, holding out her phone to her. On the display is a message from Cecile, with the final score. 2-5. Delorme lets out a curse at the sight and unlocks her phone, the result making her blood boil all over again.

“Sorry,” John apologizes as she groans while reading through Cecile’s messages, the defeated tone making her mood sink further.

“At least if we won, it would have felt like this,” she says, gesturing at her injury, “would have been worth it,” she sighs.

“Did they say…”

“It shouldn’t leave a scar,” Delorme tells him as she feels his hand on her cheek again, turning her face into the light so he can check the wound again, make sure they closed it properly.

It feels kind of weird, she has to admit. She’s used to steri-strips or stitches, not the tissue glue. Though, from the way the doctor had explained it, this method is supposed to cause less scarring. She would have still opted for the steri-strips, but there was the risk of them lifting off too soon, with the location of the cut, and that would certainly not help with healing and avoiding scarring.

Not that she’s that vain. Honestly, this is close to her left temple and her hairline, so it probably wouldn’t be noticeable after a few months, if it does end up leaving a small scar.

“Come on,” Cardinal says, letting go of her face before he picks up her jacket. “Let’s get out of here. Grab something to eat on the way, and then you can grab a shower at my place.”

Lise starts following him out of the exam room, pausing in her steps and narrowing her eyes at him.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” she asks, arching a brow at him.

“No,” Cardinal shakes his head, holding open the door for her. “I just figured you might want to get the grass stains off your skin. Green’s a nice color, but on your face, it’s a bit distracting,” he remarks as he starts walking again, leaving Lise to gape at him for a moment, before she goes to hurry after him.


End file.
